


Molten Gold

by Danko_Kaji



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Birthday Sex, F/M, Light Dom/sub, Post-Coital Cuddling, Pre-Time Skip, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-24
Updated: 2019-09-24
Packaged: 2020-10-27 08:35:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20757458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Danko_Kaji/pseuds/Danko_Kaji
Summary: (Whenever curious bar mates inquired about their relationship, her hand fell to his leg, stroking his thigh."He's my partner." The heated look in his eyes warmed her deeper than any wine ever could.).In which Bilyana had never been with a man before, but she wanted this one― young, eager, and malleable, her very own student.





	Molten Gold

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this shameless piece of wish fulfillment to fill the space of the scarce amount of Pre-Time Skip smut (which is understandable). I don't know why, I'm irrevocably charmed by the idea of Claude and Byleth developing/establishing a relationship before the timeskip and I'll keep on writing about them till my death. XD
> 
> Also, this one-shot does not heavily coincide with my Misadventures series. Consider it an independent, loose tie-in.

She had never been with a man before. 

In all her years as a mercenary, she preferred to deflect their advances, as well as the arrogant greenhorns who belonged to rival companies. No one impressed her enough to earn her interest, and yet... 

She wanted this one― young, eager, and malleable, her very own student.

Bilyana laid him out against the wall connecting their bed, the dim light of the scented candle illuminating his flushed face as she crawls over to straddle him, enraptured by his sincere doleful expression. He cannot hope to hide behind his usual charm or flirtatious wit this time, for she sees him in the dark― a boy slow to trust, hiding his heart inside his sleeve. 

But they are alone, so he ought to fear nothing. After all, she only wants to see him all laid bare.

Somewhere outside these walls, the world sleeps on as the moon rises high in the night sky. It could not have been earlier than eleven, the townspeople already retired for bed while travelers and knights alike crowd the local pubs, eager to vent about their days, yet their voices are too far gone now, swallowed by the distance. Bilyana chose this inn specifically for its remote location, desiring peace and quiet, but most of all, privacy from anyone who might recognize them. 

Claude did not object, content with following her anywhere after dragging her into town for an excursion after class, justifying his birthday as an excuse to monopolize her. They surveyed shop windows, and bookstores, and a few antique stalls, shared lunch near a bridge that overlooked a canal, and eventually wandered into a pub to play cards, mingling with strangers from various walks of life, drinking wine and eating dinner over the course of a long, pleasant evening. 

The wine slurred his words despite the pace at which they ate, his eyes glowing in the heady atmosphere, his sneaking touches growing more frequent and bold. Bilyana allowed it, fond of the feeling of his idle fingers twisting the tips of her hair, or his thumb swiping food crumbs and sauce from her mouth. They were sitting close enough to rub shoulders, their faces inclined to murmur in each other's ears whenever the noise proved too high for them to speak. 

And whenever curious bar mates inquired about their relationship, her hand fell to his leg, stroking his thigh. 

("He's my partner." The heated look in his eyes warmed her deeper than any wine ever could.)

They eventually rented a room for the night, the idea of delaying their return too appealing to pass up. Tomorrow they could wake up early and sneak back to the dormitory before anybody would notice. The Gatekeeper will vouch for their silence if she requested it. Claude embraced her from behind as soon as they were alone. It made it harder for her to strip out of her tights and coat, conscious of his face buried in her neck, his perfumed breaths in her ear. She could tell he delighted in her struggle, because she could feel his arousal pressing against her bottom. 

She twisted around once free of her shoes and outer garments, pushing him back so his knees hit the bedside, the mattress cushioning their fall, bringing them to their current predicament. 

"You couldn't wait?"

"No. I waited long enough."

He always likes to have the last word, so she stalls his quip with a kiss on his cheek, nuzzling noses. She strokes the circle of his ear, fingering his peculiar gold earring, and he leans into her touch, his eyelids fluttering low in anticipation. She aches to kiss him, but not yet. Not yet. She wants to bask in him longer. Resting her forehead on top of his, she breathes him in and sighs, intoxicated by his exotic scent, his unnatural heat. 

How often she imagined his arms wrapped around her, yearning for his impulsive embraces to linger. How often she gazed upon his face, admiring his lips every time he spoke, laughed, and smiled. How often she had wished for more private, stolen moments, only to curse at the unwitting person who approached them.

Sothis teased her for days, deriving juvenile, gleeful amusement from her pining and simmering frustration. This time, however, the disembodied spirit retreated to allow them privacy, sensitive to the charged air between them, but not without slipping in some mortifying, humorless joke about two children conceiving a little monster. 

(Bilyana developed the habit of carrying a pouch of wild carrot seed in case the risk of pregnancy ever arose. A female mercenary could never be too careful.)

At the feather light touch of his lips on hers, she moans, anchored by his wandering, firm hands inside her blouse, his fingers teasing at her bra clasp, drinking him in. His lips taste sweeter than she imagined, softer and warmer, moist from the heat of their breaths.

She helps him untie the strings binding his leather jerkin and pulls it apart, tossing it aside before he starts tugging on her blouse, pulling it over her head. Her arms fall back down to his shoulders and she palms his chest, his collarbone, eager to explore any inch of his skin. Leaning forward to kiss his neck, she senses it flush beneath her light, gentle sucking, aroused by the echo of his quiet moan. 

One hand fists in her hair while the other grips her waist, pulling her tight against him. Bilyana feels his hard cock against the damp spot soaking her underwear, and she pulls back, seizing his lips to swallow his noises. Her hands drop down to his stomach, undoing the knot that secures his waistband, and pulls down his trousers low enough to reach in, stroking him in her closed fist.

He groans, weak in her grasp, the sensual twist of their tongues. “Mm, Lya… ngh…”

His noises, his squirming, everything about him _ sings _ to her, stoking the embers of her lust. “I want you…”

“Then come take me. I’m all yours.”

The air surrounding them feels so warm, their mutual ardor a roaring furnace in this locked room. She does not know what to call this tryst― a budding love or a fleeting impulse fulfilled― but she likes him, likes the way he makes her feel. He may have intended to foster friendship in the beginning to gain her support for his own goals, but she considered him naive to neglect the possibility of developing genuine feelings. Such a precocious, young lordling. She can’t wait to see what kind of man he will grow into someday. For now, she will claim his innocence in her name.

She clasps the thin band of her panties in one finger and pulls it aside, twisting it taut so she can expose herself, lifting her hips to sheathe him inside her. He gasps sharply, startled by how quick she overtakes him. She whimpers, underestimating her own damn sensitivity. She had broken her maidenhood long ago while commuting by horseback to her next assignment, so she did not fear the pain that awaits every virginal woman. Yet the thought intimidated her still: How does a man fit inside a woman without tearing her wide open? 

She controls the pace for the sake of adjusting, soothed by the pleasant, burning heat. Her breath hitches at how she continues to stretch all over him, little by little, trembling from a pulse shared between them that throbs heavier than her bloodstream. She squeezes his shoulders for balance as she rolls her hips, settling into a slow and lovely rhythm that renders them both speechless.

“Gods, I… I can’t hold it in…!”

The warmth that spills into her encourages her to keep pace, pleased by his early surrender. A deviant part of her relishes his inexperience, his unrestrained noises, his desperate, tight grip. She cups his cheek, feeling his braid tickle the back of her hand as she strokes his head, leaning in to tease his parted lips with her own, comforting him, goading him. “Stay with me. I’m not satisfied, yet.”

“Lya, mm…” Claude whimpers, clutching her close, sweat beading his brow. 

She sighs, intoxicated by their heat, the echo of their wet noises, the scent of their sex hanging heavy in the air. Tangy and sweet, motivating her to thrust deeper and faster, clumsier, her knees growing weak from the exertion. Instead of softening, he remains hard, seduced by her energy, her persistence, and shifts in place, restless. He moves forward, being gentle to maneuver her down on the bed while he remains inside of her.

Readjusting into their new position, Bilyana wraps her arms around his broad shoulders and buries her hand in his hair, twining her fingers in his thick brown locks. He groans, hooking an arm under the crook of her knee to lift her leg higher, pounding into her deeper, harder, relishing in her unrestrained noises and the way she tugs at the roots of his hair, rocking her hips to meet his. 

“Claude… mm, oh _ Claude_… ung…!” 

That one piece of soaking wet fabric still separates them, twisted tight around his bulging cock and her aching pussy to the point it annoys them the longer they drown in each other, dampening the bed sheets. He pulls back quick to exit her, much to her airy dismay, and slides her thong down past her ankles, casting it aside before arresting her hips in his fierce, possessive grip. 

With no warning or gentility, he re-enters her in one fluid, deep motion, and she chokes in her gasp, writhing in suspended pleasure. Pleased by her reaction, he reaches over to clasp her chin, pressing a thumb to her lips, his eyes glazed over in wicked delight. “I love that look on your face, Teach. What other faces can you make for me, hmm…?” 

She risks a glance, melting under the heat of his focused gaze, how his unruly dark bangs frame his serious face. His naked, rippling body cuts a sharper, fine silhouette than in the daylight, his emerald eyes twin liquid blades that cut her straight through her composure. She whimpers, misty-eyed, overwhelmed by the heat building inside of her. 

“Ah, yes… Just like that…” Claude sighs, enamored by her vulnerable expression, next bucking under the weight of his weariness and ecstasy. “Ngh, you’re so… wet…!” 

He lowers himself on top of her, ensnaring her lips to touch tongues, gathering her tight against him. She squirms, overwhelmed by the depth of their breathless fervor, learning how to breathe through his heightened sense of urgency. Her arms slink around his waist, her hands clutching at his back, the curve of his spine. His undulating thrusts push her to the peak, and she cries out into his shoulder, shivering from the cool wave that descends upon her down below, leaving her boneless and numb. He stills all of a sudden, clenching tight, and he groans into her hair, overcome by intense release.

They lie entangled in each other, silence broken by the echo of their harsh breathing, content to bask in the afterglow. After a long, peaceful moment, Claude sighs, tired. “You’ve drained the soul out of me… I’ve got no more swimmers left…”

She exhales through her nose, amused. Lifting her hand to caress his neck, Bilyana starts scratching the crown of his head with her fingernails, much to his blissful, purring content. 

“Lya, I love you.”

“You say that after I let you fuck me.”

He gasps in mock horror, offended. “How… _ crude. _You refer to our beautiful and meaningful union as something close to debauchery. And here I thought you and I consummated our love for each other. Tell me: was I the only one who thought we shared a special connection?”

She huffs, pressing a kiss to his head. “You’re funny. And adorable.”

“I was more so thinking the words 'irresistible’ and ‘charming’ suited me better.”

“Hn. If you say so.”

“Meanie.”

When he pulls out from inside of her with a sharp snap of his hips, she squeals, startled― smacking him when he laughs at her. 


End file.
